Summer Vacation
by MrsRoy
Summary: HSM2 AU. What really happened. While Gabriella has her back turned, Troy and Sharpay get down to business. Troypay. Rated for mature content.
1. Chapter 1

"One song, Troy Bolton. It's just one song, and you promised," she huffs.

Sharpay advances with one flawlessly sculpted French manicure and thrusts the tip of her slender finger firmly into the solid chest of her perpetual male aggressor.

"It's just one song Troy. You promised Daddy. You don't want to let him down, do you?" She pouts like a winter's day, like a depression that covers the street lamps with snow, that snuffs out the foliage and strips back the canvas, bare.

Troy is seemingly flabbergasted.

He tries time and time again for some kind of divine response, some kind of hand from his maker. But as he stands in her dressing room, surrounded by the bright lights of a rousing Hollywood, he falters, reluctantly agreeing to her demands and then wondering what the hell he has just signed his life away for.

He feigns a sincere smile, but the candy floss backdrop is making his head ache, the feather and sparkles make his throat dry and he swallows thickly.

"…Troy? Troy," She clicks her fingers again for dramatic effect. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah," He mumbles under his breath, utterly clueless and generally hoping for some sort of reprieve. "Whatever you say Sharpay, sounds good to me."

Sharpay looks pleased with her efforts, and launches herself at a thoroughly bewildered Troy with a startle.

For a moment, he struggles to find his equilibrium and stumbles backwards, catching himself before the pair can fall.

With her arms around his neck, Sharpay balances herself on the balls of her feet before touching her lips to the apple of his cheek and he has to try really hard not to blush in her presence.

Sharpay rights herself once again, smoothing the fabric of her dress with her hands and apologizing as though the phrase itself is going out of fashion.

"Sorry, I got a little excited," She admits. "I really can't wait for the talent show; it's going to be so amazing, don't you think?"

What he can't help but think is that the change in her demeanor and the turn in her deportment is nothing short of remarkable.

"Yeah, it's going to be peachy Sharpay."

Christ, he's still trying to figure out why he didn't find that whole kiss thing so horrible, why he's really still standing here in front of her, why right now, he doesn't really give a damn. He could throw caution to the wind, make himself seem like a bastard, but at the end of the day, he'd still be a cheater. And yet, he finds himself drawn to Sharpay.

He notices her curves, and the way that she moves, the way that her hips sway with little to no effort at all, and they probably always have, for as long as he's known her.

Gabriella has her mocha skin and her shaded complexion, but Sharpay is supple, she's effervescence and he wants her.

He doesn't afford her the liberty of reaction; he frames her face with his thick hands, the calloused tools of the burgeoning sports star. His thumbs stroke her skin, and he longs to taste her lips. She doesn't protest him, she simply succumbs.

His motion is gentle, tentative, like a lovers touch. His breath is warm on her skin as he brings his face closer to hers, as he lifts her hair where it falls across her face and exposes the column of her neck, the arc of her shoulder where he sets his first kiss.

He dips his tongue into the crook of her clavicle, savoring the flavor of her body that dances across his fledgling palate.

Her scent lingers upon his senses and he draws his tongue up, along the line of her jaw, seeking her lips and ascending to ravish.

"Troy," She moans with her eyes tightly scrunched, her shoulders rising and falling as she pants.

The single word brings him to his knees, and he can't control his arousal, he aches and knows that she will be his first.

"Sharpay," He stutters, trying to find the right words, trying to be the kind of man that his parents had raised. "I … I don't have anything, I mean … I have no protection. Maybe we shouldn't?"

"Shhh," Sharpay tries to placate him, rubbing his shoulder and holding his eyes now. "It's okay, I trust you."

"I mean …," He doesn't want to pressure her. "Are you sure about this?"

She giggles, pulling him closer by the loops of his belt, fiddling with the buckle and noticing the obvious strain against the teeth of his zipper.

"I'm sure," she assures him. "I've waited a long time, I …" She ducks her head, not wanting to look at him, not wanting him to realize her embarrassment. "I've always wanted you to be my first."

He captures her chin between his thumb and his forefinger, lifting her chin so that he can see her face, so that he can see her eyes, the curve of her smile, the way the corners of her mouth tip up when he knows that she's happy.

"Don't. Don't ever do that. You're beautiful, Sharpay. I'm sorry I didn't notice before."

Sharpay shrugs and sighs. "You have Gabriella, why would you take any notice of me, the drama queen?"

"Oh, you definitely have my attention."

He bunches the ruffled chiffon cotton up around her waist and marvels at the pastel boy leg panties that surround her core. She is perfection personified; she is va- va- voom.

He fingers the leg of her garments, following the elastic, his finger slipping beneath the pale cloth.

Sharpay grips Troy by the shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh through the layers of his silky uniform. She's tight and he's the first and as he follows the line of her swollen lips it's like fireworks on the fourth of July.

He sinks his finger into her warmth and crooks it in a come-hither motion.

Her hips buck and she's weak at the knees as she begins to shake. He's not entirely sure he can hold her weight, so he beckons for her to follow his lead as he moves to the floor, his lips upon her temple as he soothes her trepidation.

She's on her back and he looms over her, pushing the two halves of his trousers aside and pulling back his shorts to reveal his erection. He kicks off his pants, trying to get them past the point of his shoes, but reluctantly, he must withdraw his finger leaving her wanting, and tug at his laces, discarding the now useless footwear.

He's nervous, and his fingers shake as he hooks his thumbs into the side of her underwear, taking his time to remove them from her dainty legs that seem to go on forever. He bares her to his sight, the air is thick with her arousal, and he licks his lips in anticipation.

He takes himself in hand, stroking the length of his shaft from base to tip and looks back at her when he feels her fingers curl around his and her hand move him towards her swollen folds.

He thrusts his hips, her pelvis leaving the ground to meet him as she bucks and he pushed forward, frowning when she squeaks and her body tightens around him. She chews her bottom lip, hissing as she sucks in a generous breath, inhaling until the discomfort subsides. He watches her face carefully, holding her as close as he possibly can, not yet able to fathom the fact that they're intimate, that he might have hurt her, might have made her cry.

"Go, keep going," She manages, rubbing his arm as a sign of affection, letting him know that it's okay to move, that ultimately now, they're past the point of no return.

"Fuck me, Troy," She begs, her tone dropping an octave in the hope that she can conceal her distress. "Please, just … fuck me."

He shakes his head, starting at a rhythm.

"No. I'm not going to do that to you, you deserve better Sharpay."

"Troy," She eyes him between sobs, hooking her legs around his hips and trying to pull him in deeper, locking her ankles at the small of his back.

"No Sharpay. Do you think I don't see you, do you think I don't really know what you want? I won't do it."

The unbridled tears etch a path on her skin as they fall across the bridge of her nose. She sniffs them away, turning her face from Troy's line of sight. She tries to steady her breathing and she feels him slow, almost to a complete halt.

He rocks his hips preserving momentum as his fingers graze her lips and he lifts the tear stained digits to his mouth. She watches him, fascinated by such a gesture. Why is he doing this? Nobody has ever been so tender.

He contemplates his next sentence while holding himself flush against her body.

"I won't be the guy who takes you for granted. This is meant to be special; you're not just some girl. I want this to be good for you Pay."

_Pay?_ When did he start calling her Pay?

He touches her face again, tracing the lines and plains, taking in her features, the subtle angles, the curve of her chin and the dip of her nose. He brushes away the disheveled hair that veils her eyes and tucks it neatly behind her ear. He wants to be the first to witness her expression; he wants to remember the way that she looks as she breaks for him.

He can feel her contracting around him, and he's never had sex before, but he knows his own body, he knows that he's close. He has to hold on, he won't let go until Sharpay reaches her own climax.

"Troy. I … uh …"

He interrupts her train of thought. "Just let go Sharpay. It's okay, I've got you."

And she shatters, and it fractures his resolve and he fills her with promise and they collapse together.

He strokes her back and watches her breath and his mind starts to wander because he's just had sex, he has just made love to Sharpay on the floor of her changing room.

The bile rises in his throat and the dread tries to choke him. Their top halves are still fully clothed and he runs a hand through his flaccid hair and takes a serious breath. What the hell has he done? And what the hell has he taken?

From Sharpay, from Gabriella, from himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own them. I just share.**

* * *

Troy puts his left foot in front of his right again as he paces out another lap of the Lava Springs kitchen scullery. His arms are folded across his chest and he's chewing on the corner of his thumb nail. He's completely oblivious to his best friend Chad as he stacks the armful of dishes he has, wiping his hands on the dish cloth slung over his shoulder.

"Troy, would you take a seat man. You're making me dizzy."

Troy ignores the command and continues to scuff his canvas trainers across the well worn path once more. His emotions are so raw that he wonders if the people around him might actually be able to hear his inner most conflict.

"Troy," Chad's finely tuned whistle resonates through the tips of his fingers meeting albeit reluctantly with the fragile membrane of Troy's inner ear.

He ceases his pacing and spins around on the balls of his feet to face the source of all the commotion.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

Chad shakes his head and rolls his eyes and turns his back, returning again to his appointed commission. He wonders what's been bothering Troy. He'd been spaced out this way since he'd spoken to Gabriella this morning, and the day had slowly, but steadily deteriorated.

Troy licks his lips and pushes his fringe from his eyes where it hangs as he looks at the clock on the wall for the fifth time today. The little hand is pointing to the two. It's two o'clock. Surely the time piece is mocking him. He doesn't get off till a quarter to eight. He could bump into Sharpay at any time.

_Sharpay._

He'd made love to Sharpay. To be perfectly accurate, he'd had sex with her on her dressing room floor. He'd be gentle; he'd caressed her and brought her to climax though he's had little experience with those situations, other than with his own satisfaction.

They hadn't used protection; they'd been caught up in the motions. When he finally closed his eyes that night before he laid his head down to sleep, he'd promised himself that Sharpay had taken care of it. Surely she was on the pill. It wasn't so uncommon these days.

Though even now, that talon of doubt spawns a myriad of situations that leave his throat dry and his heart thumping through the restrain of his rib cage. He'd actually listened during sex education. There was every chance he was looking at a lifetime of misery, like a receptacle for the Devil's advocate.

That is the worst case scenario. Sharpay had told him that she'd trusted him, that everything would be alright.

Where is her fix for a criminal conscience?

He'd been weak; he'd given into to his desires like a foolhardy commoner. His father had always told him to keep his eye on the ball and his head in the game. He'd listened; he had. Just too little too late.

"Troy." The dainty voice calls from the entrance to the dining hall. "Troy," she calls again.

"Gabriella." His ears don't deceive him this time because she's heading right for him. Her hair is pulled up and her white shirts cut a deep contrast against the dark tones of her earthy skin. But there's not stirring in his groin and he feels a sudden deadpan disappointment.

"This is my first break since I started at nine," she tells him, excited that she's able to bask in his company, at least until her lunch time is over. "I thought I'd come and see how you got on with the lunch time rush."

She grips a white paper bag in her hand and shakes the contents, smiling when he frowns at her.

"It's a muffin. Blueberry. I brought you one, you know, in case you didn't get the chance to eat. I know you've been run off your feet."

"Thank you." He smiles, not knowing what else to do. His instinct is to head for higher ground, but he's stuck between a rock and a hard place. In Sharpay's case, a very hard place. He licks his lips as he replays last night's repertoire until he remembers that his girlfriend is standing in front of him.

"Where did you go just now? You seemed to be miles away."

_Her hands on him, her mouth moving across his like the sweeping motion of a rolling crest that breaks the sea shore. He moves inside her and the world is still again._

"Oh, you know. I was just thinking about the fact that I've still got six hours of this shift left. I can't wait to get out of here."

She always does this, he's sure of it, her little song and dance, the way she bats her eyelids at him, like she's some virginal temptress too precious to appreciate. Quite frankly, he's sick of it. He's a man; he wants to experience the wears that the world has to offer.

But when he looks at Gabriella, his stomach begins to contract as it sinks and a shrieking regard settles upon his heart, heavy for him to ponder. Teen father of the year had not been drafted anywhere onto his turbulent schedule. He hopes to God that he hasn't yet consorted with the list of the damned.

He needs to speak to Sharpay, if she'll ever be willing to hear him out again after what he did.

"So, um, Troy, I was wondering if …"

"Look Gabriella, I've got to run. We have a lot of cleaning up to do around here and I can't leave Chad and the other's hanging. I'm really sorry."

Troy throws his hand up and thumbs his fist in Chad's direction over his shoulder so that she can see. Chad wiggles his fingers, offering a sympathetic wave and an apologetic semblance.

"Well why didn't you say so? I should probably be getting back to work too, but I'm glad I got to see you."

She leans forward and places her lips against the corner of his mouth. She has to be careful when it comes to work place relations. It's far too inappropriate, especially when Troy is still on the clock.

If only somebody had warned him and Sharpay about the consequences of cutting into work time.

"Have a good afternoon. I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you then." He agrees for the sake of his sanity and then watches her leave, her retreating back like some foreign immunity.

"What's up with you two?"

Troy nearly leaps from his skin when Chad's impulsive hand clamps down on his shoulder, a genuine show of concern for his friend that surprises Troy.

Troy shakes his head, his eyes still focused on the spot where his girlfriend had been previously. "Nothing going on. We're fine, just busy. It's different now that we're working. Hey, ah, do you think you could cover for me for about an hour? Please Chad; I need to go take care of something."

Chad eyes Troy suspiciously. The nervous tension is thick as it settles between them; and he's expecting a dramatic explanation, but all he gets out of Troy is a sigh, an exasperated anti-climax.

"Yeah, okay. But Troy, you need to tell me what's going on. Seriously, I can't keep doing this for you."

"We'll talk. I promise."

Troy claps his hands together and smiles, turning on his way to find Sharpay when he realizes that Chad has truly put his neck on the line this time. The charming Mister Fulton will gladly take whatever measures he needs to, in order to ensure that Troy's employment at Lava Springs ceases to be.

Troy swallows and forces his hands into his pockets, looking down at his feet before facing Chad again. "Thanks man, I owe you one," He says sincerely.

* * *

She's sitting in the private garden oasis when he finally catches sight of her. Her fuchsia yoga mat is rolled out neatly, and she's seated close to one end with her legs crossed and her arms resting comfortably on her thighs. Her eyes are closed and she inhales melodically, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

He watches her from a safe distance, sure that she's not aware of his presence. He staggers on his feet when she issues his name like a perfectly executed prompt. She'll always be his drama queen, it's part of the reason he loves her.

_Loves her. _

Troy shakes his head and crouches down in front of her, his hands perspiring in the confines of his sweaty trouser pockets.

"Hi Sharpay," He mutters like a bumbling child.

Sharpay draws a ragged breath and stills for a moment before lifting her hand to raise her Vuitton shades and squinting around the flare of the brilliant afternoon sun that dares to interrupt her. She takes in the form of the boy kneeling before her and lowers her glasses, her mouth now a thin line of utter disgust.

"You shouldn't be here," she says. "These grounds are private, so toodle off."

Sharpay snaps her wrist in a show of suggestion, motioning in the direction of the public domain, but Troy is not intimidated by the flick of her champagne locks nor her snide remark.

"Sharpay, I know I hurt you. What I did last night, when I walked away. That was stupid. I'm sorry. But we really need to talk about it, about what happened."

Trying in vain to concentrate on her breathing again, Sharpay sighs, he's not going to let this go, she's going to have to hear him out.

"You have thirty seconds. Speak."

Troy doesn't miss a beat.

"I'm really sorry Sharpay, for what I did. I made a mess of it, of us. I … um …"

Sharpay interrupts him, holding out a single digit, willing him to stop with the small talk. It's still too painful and she's having trouble maintaining her facade. This conversation cannot end too soon.

"You used me Troy, that's what you did. You used me and then you went back to your precious Gabriella. I don't have time to play your games. I'm a somebody, Troy. Not a nobody."

"Okay, I get it Sharpay. You're mad at me, and I don't blame you, but this is serious. Sharpay, last night, when you said that you trusted me," Troy struggles to string the syllables of a basic sentence together, he's so nervous. "Sharpay, are you on some kind of birth control?"

"Don't be silly Troy. I'm an actress; we don't have time for babies. I told you that I trusted you. I trusted you to take care of it before that happened. You did take care of it didn't you Troy?"

Troy can't answer her. There are no words, just images that succeed the gauntlet of his mind like a ream of film on basic rewind. His neck stiffens and resounding paralysis sets in as the very real possibility that his chip off the old block could be just one less stride into the unknown. It looks like the inevitable.

"Sharpay, do you know what this means?"

Sharpay just wants him to leave her alone, she wants to bask in the goodness of the desert monopoly, so dismisses his sentence because it's nonsense. "Nothing is going to happen, Troy. Not to me. You may leave now, before I call security. Daddy won't be very pleased."

Reluctantly, Troy agrees. But in the pit of his belly, as he walks away, he has a very bad feeling that the worst is still yet to come.


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**I'm not sure if anybody is reading this story, but here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.  
**

* * *

Troy toes the red earth beneath his feet and watches the debris scatter, and tumble over the edge of the ridge. After he left Sharpay to her surroundings, he'd started to walk, without thought of direction, without thought of his job or the fact that he's now at least a quarter of an hour late for the start of the evening shift. He'd promised Chad, an hour at the most.

He checks his watch and sighs with a huff. He's going to get fired. He has no doubt about that, they won't tolerate tardiness around here.

He picks himself up and dusts himself off and turns himself in the direction of the resort kitchenette, breaking out into a moderate jog, trying to make up some time and ground.

He's hot and he's perspiring, a bead of sweat trickles from the line of his brow, down the bridge of his nose and he swipes at it with the cuff of his rumpled sleeve. He'd rolled them and re-rolled them to many times to guess.

"Bolton," The voice from the depths of the dining hall makes the hairs at the nape of his neck stand at attention, how can a decibel carry so far? "Bolton," Fulton scowls on his approach, his vintage clipboard tucked neatly under his arm as he ticks off his army of cretins. "You're late for your shift. Where have you been? You're being paid to work, I simply can't accept this I'm afraid."

"Sir, I can explain, Mister Fulton, if you'd just let me explain …"

"Fulton, he was with me."

Sharpay stands behind the two men; one hand placed upon her hip, the other is raised to eye level where she inspects her nails as if they're the most interesting invention since man made the telephone. She runs her tongue across the top of her mouth, across the line of her pearly white teeth and smiles sweetly.

"He was with me, I asked him to see that my lunch was personally hand delivered. You can't be too careful you know, what with the staff you have running this kitchen and all." She turns her nose up at the sight of them and Chad merely rolls his eyes and walks away.

"Miss Evans." The middle aged man adjusts his glasses and straightens his tie. "I'm afraid we don't tolerate sloppy time management here at Lava Springs."

"I've spoken to my father;" She announces suddenly. "Troy Bolton will no longer be working here."

Troy looks confused; shaking his head he can't understand why she would do this to him. He should have guessed that she'd turn out to be vindictive; he should have known it all along.

Sharpay smiles and turns to troy, offering him her hand. "Come Troy, you have work to do."

"I do?" He's even more confused now.

"Of course you do. You're my new personal golfing instructor."

* * *

It's bright and early and Troy thinks that he might have been able to sneak a few more winks if it weren't for Sharpay and her crazy endeavors. Not that he's complaining, he's going to enjoy the chance to be close to her again, he's pretty sure that these lessons are meant to be one on one.

He's meeting the Evans for a round of nine holes today and he's still can't hide the smile that creeps up on him when he thinks about the lengths that Sharpay has gone to just for him. She's not the type to put herself out and he thinks that if he didn't know better, he might even say that she's enjoying the chase. He knows that he is.

He stands on the practice tee and stretches his arms up over his head, bending his arm at the elbow, allowing the muscles to react and contract. He shakes his hands and pulls a driver from his set of clubs. He has a lot to prove to Sharpay's father and he wants to make a good impression. He wants Sharpay to realize that he's not what she thinks, that he can turn his bad boy on.

"Hi Troy."

She smiles as she approaches and distracts him with her short skirt and her crystal tiara. She scrunches his nose, does she really need that? Then he kicks himself, this is Sharpay.

"Hi."

"So," She places her hand on his shoulder and smoothes out the wrinkles in his cotton polo shirt, adjusting his collar so that it sits up, her hand follows the line of his chest and he swallows because there's no way he's ever going to be able to resist her.

Then he remembers her parents. Focus.

"It's time for you to finally meet my parents. I'm so excited." She squeals and then she's gone and he's left standing like a dead weight until Sharpay introduces her mother.

"Enchante." She extends her hand and as well as a formal greeting.

He shakes the woman, no, Sharpay's mother's hand. Unshun-what? Surely she speaks English. "Awesome," He replies politely.

Troy takes Sharpay's wrist and gently turns her away from the rest of the family. With his back turned he misses the suspicious expression that passes over Ryan's face.

"Sharpay, I though you said your Dad was coming? Wasn't this gig his idea?"

The steel blades of the Evans' chopper churn the air around them as the craft descends with a blusterous tailspin that irritates Troy's lungs and blows his mop of fringe about his face.

Sharpay lifts her pinkie in the direction of the helicopter and smiles.

Daddy has arrived.

Troy tries to trample the dread that settles in the base of his gut as he marvels at such an extravagant entrance.

"Daddy!" Sharpay waves the older gentleman over and Troy realizes that his palms are now sweating profusely. He prays to God that he doesn't look guilty.

"Princess." He places his arm around his daughter and kisses her temple then claps his son on the shoulder, seemingly impressed by his physique. "Son, you've been working out?"

"Yoga." Ryan says and shrugs and Troy tries not to snicker.

"So, Daddy," Sharpay says enthusiastically, "Troy played for the golf team this season."

Vance Evans nods, clearly impressed. "Versatile, I like that."

"Well," His wife interrupts, placing her ball down on the tee. "That might come in handy, the way I play golf. Fair warning"

She raises the club above her head, angles her body into the shot and strikes the ball, hard.

"Brilliant. Darling, that was brilliant. Let's hope that Troy here can teach our Princess a thing or two."

A rousing applause later and Sharpay's father is lining up his own shot. Troy is next and he's nervous. He glances at Sharpay for a moment, trying to find his bearings. How did she ever manage to knock him off his foundations? He thinks about Gabriella, and for the first time in his life he knows that she's his past now.

He thinks about what he's done with Sharpay and he thinks about how much he wants her. The act is just that, the facade is completely external, she does it for the looks, because he knows that underneath, under the make-up and the frills and the cashmere and bleach, she's just a teenage girl begging for an escape route.

Maybe he should have made more of an effort; maybe, he should have encouraged the real Sharpay. Money doesn't make the man, or in this case, the woman.

"… Troy?" She says again. "It's your turn."

It could be the fear of God that turns his veins to ice, but he's pretty sure the concern in her voice is genuine.

Ryan is watching the interaction between the two teens and he's come to the realization that Sharpay's eyes have never sparkled like that before, that whatever is going on between Troy Bolton and his sister, he doesn't have the heart to stop it. He hopes that Sharpay knows what she's getting herself into. He hopes that Troy won't hurt her.

He wonders if Troy might be interested in wearing a beret, then he thinks better of it. He doesn't want Troy to steal his limelight.

"Come on Wildcat, show us what you've got," Sharpay's father encourages.

His heart is beating frantically beneath his ribcage, and he runs his fingers through his hair, just to be sure that he won't be tempted to do it again. His own father has always been an intimidating man, but standing here with Sharpay and her family, he knows that his future is riding on his next stroke. So he closes his eyes and thinks for a moment.

_Nothing but net. _The famous catch phrase enters his mind and with his eye on the ball and his follow through ready, Troy swings, he shoots, he scores.

The crowds erupt with applause and he hopes that he did something right. He seems to be making the wrong kinds of decisions lately. Not that he regrets what he did with Sharpay, he'll never regret that, perhaps though, he'd have preferred alternative circumstances. He hopes that she'll give him a reprieve, one so that he can prove to her just what type of man he is.

"See, Daddy. I told you Troy was brilliant. You can be sure that he'll do wonders for my short game. Trust me; Troy is a very good investment."

Ryan cocks his brow, something is definitely going on, this is not the Sharpay he knows and loves. Though she might be devious, she's not the kind to sing the praise of somebody like Troy-freaking-Bolton. He must get to the bottom of this. Sooner, he thinks, rather than later.

"Well, what do you think, Son?" Sharpay's father directs his question at Troy and the frown on Ryan's face becomes a scowl. His father only ever calls him son. "I'm sold," Says the patriarch, before reaching over to shake hands with Troy.

Troy simply smiles and nods his head in approval. "Thank you, Sir. You won't regret it."

"Welcome aboard, Troy."

Sharpay claps her hands and jumps up into Troy's arms without as much as a second thought. Caught by surprise, Troy has to steady them, and he finds that after a moment, the extra weight becomes quite comfortable. He could get used to this.

She pulls back to look at Troy and he holds her gaze for a moment, trying to ascertain what's going on in her mind at the moment. Where he expects to see loathing and gluttony, there's a trail of fear, he can tell that she's scared and that right now, she needs him.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**Sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

**(There will be more smut next chapter. ;))  
**

* * *

"Troy!" Sharpay calls from the path above the practice greens, her thigh high pink skirt dancing around her legs as she makes her way from the golf cart to the green where Troy stands.

He watches her hips sway as she sashays in her mini-skirt with ribbons and sequins, embroidered with fine piping detail around the hem. She's a vision, and for some reason, he finds himself licking his lips, he can remember the way that she tastes on his lips, he can remember the way that she felt around him, surrounding all of him, so tight so …

"Hi, Sharpay." He smiles, watching her champagne locks curl up at the end as they flurry in the motion of the early morning air.

"So, Troy, I'm so glad that Daddy decided to hire you as my very own personal instructor. This is going to be so much fun, don't you think?"

He tries not to stare at her more than is reasonable. "Your parents have been great, this job is really great, Sharpay."

Sharpay shakes her pale pink balls from their basket, obscuring her view of Troy's face as she turns her head, trying to conceal the overwhelming apprehension that thrums in the base of her throat. She's useless. She couldn't protect herself from him; she gave of herself without thought for the consequence. She knows that if she is pregnant, Troy won't forgive her glaring oversight. There's only one plan of action for Sharpay to implement, her father taught her to be ruthless.

She has to make this look like his fault.

Sharpay smooths her hand along the length of Troy's broad arm, the muscles beneath are hard and the weight of his body in the palm of her hand feels good.

"You look good in your new uniform. You wear it like a real professional," Sharpay crows, batting her eyelids.

Troy shrugs and shoves his hands into the depths of his pockets before he tilts his foot to admire his new footwear. "You like the shoes? They're real Italian leather."

Sharpay licks her lips and proceeds with her broadest smile, the corners of her mouth quivering as she forces herself to feign the happy expression.

"I think they're perfect. I think you're perfect, Troy." Lord knows that Troy makes her heart soar and her pulse race, but right now, her heart beats only with the knowledge that she's about to sabotage this quaint little union.

In the back of her mind, she can't help but think what if.

* * *

"Can you believe the nerve she has? She's practically throwing herself at him."

Gabriella watches as Troy takes his stance behind Sharpay with his hips pressed firmly to the shape of the small of her back. He seems to fit effortlessly and it doesn't pass her eye unnoticed.

"Troy's just being polite; it's part of his job."

"Uh-uh," Taylor shakes her head. "When I walked past them, she was practically mauling him."

Chad sits quietly next to the two friends, watching the interaction between Troy and Sharpay. He knows that there's more to the story, he knows that Troy is not acting, if he didn't know better, he might even say it was genuine affection.

Taylor elbows Chad who has remained silent over the course of the heated conversation. "Chad, you're Troy's best friend, what's going on with him? Is he being a jerk because he feels sorry for Sharpay?"

Chad clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, you know Troy; he's just being friendly like Gabby said." What he really wants to say is that he's not so sure, that Troy seems to be a little more friendly than usual, that despite her flaws, and she has plenty, Sharpay is one smokin' hot girl.

Taylor eyes Chad, searching for the barest hint of blatant untruth upon his face, and then relents. "Alright, Chad, if you insist. Maybe I'm wrong about Troy." She turns to look at Gabriella, "I still think you ought to keep an eye on him though, you know, just in case. I don't trust that girl, not one little bit."

Gabriella swallows the tears that burn her eyes, taking another glance across the meticulously manicured greens, the gentle rush of breeze blowing stray locks of fringe into her solemn face. She wonders if it's a sign, drawing a veil upon her relationship with Troy, because even from a distance, she can see the expression on his face as plain as day. He used to smile at her that way.

"I trust him. Troy wouldn't do that, and there's no way he would do it with Sharpay. I think all of this sun is getting to you Taylor."

Sensing her hesitation, Chad examines his nails and runs his shaky hand through his mop of wayward ringlets. "Nah, you know Troy, he's way too loyal."

He tries for a lopsided smile, because on the inside, his faith is beginning to waver, and if he's right, Troy has already paid the price for freedom.

"I'd better get back to the pool, don't want to lose my job," Gabriella waves her friends off, not really trusting herself to take that glance back over her shoulder."

* * *

"So, Troy, I was thinking, maybe you and I could get together some time, you know, outside of work hours. What do you say? I know you're dating Gabriella, but," Sharpay makes a show of pressing the slim curve of her backside into the front of Troy's trousers. He grows hard against her, his erection straining against the fabric of his pants, and he grips her arms insistently, pulling her closer still. She wiggles, trying to find perfect her stance and Troy's lids flutter under the weight of his arousal. If she moves from him, he's in certain trouble.

Troy leans forward, the warmth from his breath tickling the shell of her ear and she trembles.

"Sharpay," Troy bites out, "If you move, people are going to see the … Ah, the affect that you're having on me."

Sharpay regains her composure, flicking her head and smoothing out her hair with her free hand.

"As I was saying, perhaps we need a more suitable arena for adjournment, somewhere a little more private."

Troy tilts her pelvis so that Sharpay leans forward, so draws a sharp breath as both pairs of arms move from side to side; their motion like a pendulum oscillates to- and- fro.

"I'm listening," He whispers.

"Well, it's unbearably hot, and I am positively sweating out here in the heat of the sun. It's so disgusting; my skin will never forgive me. Anyway, you know how Daddy owns practically all of the facilities here, what do you think about having our very own late night dip in the Country Club pool, Troy? Isn't it just the most brilliant idea ever?"

"I don't know, isn't that going to be risky, Sharpay? I mean, anyone could see us together."

Sharpay pouts and turns around in Troy's embrace. "Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

"No," Troy protests like an accused man. "No, not at all. Does it look like I am?"

Sharpay frowns, finally putting her acting finesse to good use; she runs her slender finger along the length of Troy's collar and brushes the hard column of his neck as she speaks.

"I mean, if you don't want to, I'll completely understand. What, with Gabriella and all, you probably want to spend time with her."

Troy shakes his head and smiles and Sharpay settles back into his arms, her eyes concentrating on the tiny pink ball at her feet. "I'll be there. What time?"

Sharpay takes her finger and swirls her tongue around the tip, licking the digit before pointing towards the sky. "How about ten, on the dot?"

Troy tries to stifle a groan that slips from his parched lips.

"What?" Sharpay asks before following his line of sight up to where her moist finger seeks the crest of the breeze. "Oh, that. I was just checking the direction of the wind. It's a little trick that Daddy taught me."

Troy swallows around the lump in his throat. His words come out a garbled mess and he feels like his voice has just broken again. It's awkward, but Sharpay just smiles. He's well and truly wrapped around her little finger; all she has to do is crook it.

"So, ten p.m. I'll be there, on the dot just like you said." He clamps down the image of Sharpay in her bathers because he's not quite sure that he can afford to have his uniform dry cleaned at his own expense. He saves that treat for later on, when his appetite can't possibly stretch to accommodate his hunger.

"Don't forget to wear your swim trunks, it's probably going to get very, very wet," Sharpay purrs.

Feeling that pull in the pit of his belly, Troy decides to change the subject, lest she drive him crazy with desire. "Let me show you how this is really done," He says, molding her grip to his thick, calloused hands.

As Troy and Sharpay giggle in the distance, Taylor glares around her clipboard, watching them with eager eyes. She scribbles a brief note upon the corner of the page before slipping her pen back into her pocket and heading in the direction of the Lava Springs kitchenette.

"I don't know what you're up to, Sharpay," She whispers under her breath, "But you can bet that I'll be the first person to figure it out."


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**Heading for angst town now. **

**Hope to be posting a little more frequently from now on.**

**Enjoy.  
**

* * *

Troy arrives at the pool and checks his watch as he unlatches the stainless steel gate and steps across the cobblestone paving towards the deck chair that sprawled by the side of the opulent pool.

"It's ten, and Sharpay's not here," He muses to himself, out loud.

He places his towel upon the seat and looks around for any sign of Sharpay. As he steps towards the edge of the pool, his bare toes are covered with the drops that sluice from Sharpay's elongated hand as she tries to grab Troy's leg.

"Sharpay," Troy squeals, jumping back from her touch like she's burned him. "You scared the living daylights out of me."

Troy hold his hand up to his chest and feigns a shock of fright while Sharpay giggles, and stands to her full height at the shallow end of the pool.

Troy can't help but notice the shape of her body, the way that she curves around her hips and her breasts tip the cups of her bikini like she's been over filled. She is literally brimming.

His shorts begin to strain and he has to recite basketball stats in his head for a moment, his eyes rolling back in his head as he ignores the obvious signs of his arousal. The water beads from Sharpay's collar bone as she flicks her hair back from her face and tucks it behind her shoulders. He's not sure he's ever seen her with her hair out like this, live a veil that underpins her natural beauty.

"Why don't you come in?" She coaxes him, crooking her finger in a come-hither motion. "The water is nice, and I'm sure I can find a way to keep you warm."

There's a glint in her eye, they sparkle as the moon light plays on her features, illuminating the best parts of her slender body. She is a Goddess, a beautiful young woman, no longer a virgin. And the more time that Troy spends with her, the more he realizes that Sharpay has so much more to offer. He wants to experience Sharpay in her entirety.

Sharpay moves onto her back and smiles at him, extending her leg, she partially submerges her foot and playfully taps the surface of the water before gliding away from the polished turquoise tile.

"I'm here, Troy. Why don't you come and get me?"

Troy wastes no time at all, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and lifting the cotton over his head, tugging the fabric up over his head, he throws the item down next to his towel and stalks his way back to the pool, back towards Sharpay.

He takes the steps, descending them one by one, his skin crowned with goose bumps as the cool evening air wafts across his damp body.

Sharpay moves through the water slowly, gracefully. Troy is loathe to think it, but the way her body slices through the water reminds him of that old swan cliché. He thinks there might even be a Shakespeare quote, something about the pale swan in her watery nest. Whatever it is, he likes it.

He pushes off from the side of the pool and strokes his arms through the water, his arms creating the current he needs to propel himself backwards and closer to Sharpay.

"Hi," She says meekly, as he saddles up beside her, his legs spiraling beneath him, keeping himself afloat.

"Hi," He replies, and then realizes that he probably could have done better than '_Hi'._

Sharpay grips Troy's arm in her hand and he takes her into his embrace, his arms either side of her waist as they float back to the edge of the pool together.

"You look beautiful, Sharpay."

"Of course I do," She says in her sweetest voice. She wishes that she didn't have to do this, she wants Troy to know what he means to her, what spending time with him has lead her to discover. She hates that it has to be this way, but she can't see how it will work any other. "I'm a girl in a bikini, and you're a teenage boy," She smirks and then leans forward over his chest placing her lips against his.

Sharpay closes her eyes, and hopes that she can express so much more through this one act, than anything else. She hopes that he will forgive her one day. Troy is a responsible kind of guy, if he think he's made a mistake, he'll own up to it, he'll be there for her, despite her deception.

"So," Troy asks, staring at her beneath his hooded gaze, "What did you have in mind, Sharpay?"

Sharpay rests her free hand against his chest and pushes Troy back against the wall.

"Make love to me, Troy," She pouts. "Please, make love to me."

Sharpay crosses her fingers and asks the Lord to forgive her, lest she rest in hell with the rest of those evil fashion offenders.

"Chad," Taylor hisses through clenched teeth as the two scale the compound wall, trying to catch a glimpse of Troy. "Would you please keep your voice down, Troy is going to hear us."

They had followed him half way across the block and caught sight as he entered the secure resort.

"Why is he going to the pool?"

Chad shrugs. "Maybe he's got a hot date with Gabriella? She is a lifeguard you know."

Taylor rolls her eyes and lifts her binoculars up to her face again.

"Oh my God," She gasps, grabbing Chad by the chest of his black turtleneck. "Chad, you have got to see this, I mean, Oh, gross, it's … It's … repulsive."

"Well I can't see, can I?" Chad tries to stage whisper over Taylor's right shoulder. You're sitting in front of me and you're blocking the view. Move over so that I can see."

"Oh, no. No, no. You don't want to see this. It's nasty. I can't believe Troy would do this to Gabby. I ought to march right down there and give him a piece of my mind."

"What is it? What's Troy doing?"

Taylor sighs and thrusts the binoculars into Chad's hands and then sits back on her heels so that he can lean over the fence and catch a glimpse of the aforementioned act.

"Holy shit," Chad wails, "Holy shit, Tay, you got to see this. Troy, my ma-ah-an." He whistles beneath his breath. "She's a beauty."

Taylor glares at Chad even though the gesture is futile.

"How can you be so dense? That's Sharpay, he's down there with Sharpay doing …" Taylor points at the two, Troy and Sharpay locked in an intimate embrace against the smooth wall of the Lava Springs swimming pool.

"Oh, God. Yes, Troy. Harder," Sharpay pleads as Troy's hips slam into her over and over while her back is flat against the pool wall.

Troy's thumb gently traces the shape of her lips, they're swollen and warm from his previous assault. His free hand holds her head and he thrusts his hips against her, sinking deeper into her warmth.

Sharpay is hot and wet, and she feels so good wrapped around him. She's still tight, but she didn't wince this time, she didn't even whimper as he'd entered her.

"You're so beautiful, Pay."

Sharpay hates herself for this. She hates herself for trying to trick him into getting her pregnant. She might not have been pregnant in the first place. What has she done? She panicked prematurely and now Troy will never forgive her.

A tear streaks Sharpay's pale face and Troy slows his pace and looks at her with concern clouding his features.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks, worried that he has inadvertently hurt her somehow.

Sharpay shakes her head. She has made such a terrible mistake.

Sharpay cups Troy's face in her hands and looks into his eyes, pouring her emotion into the look that might very be the last one she gives him.

"Come for me, Troy. I need you, all of you."

Sharpay clamps down around Troy, contracting her flesh so that it burns him and his whole body trembles as he wraps his arm around her shoulders and draws her into his chest when he shatters.

And for the second time in the space of a week, Troy's heat seeps into Sharpay's bones and his essence coats her womb.

He dips his head and pants into the crook of her neck, his tongue tasting the sweat licked skin beneath the shell of her ear.

Sharpay is shaking and trying to keep it together, but she smiles, playing up her body's reaction to the water and the breeze that drifts over them. The desert nights are chilly in comparison to the scorching days and the gaseous glare of the desolate sun.

Troy keeps Sharpay wrapped up in his arms, his thick, calloused fingers stroke her arms and as she exits the water, he wraps her up in her sheet towel and makes sure that she doesn't catch a chill.

Sharpay realizes just how attentive Troy is. He's not just a sports jock; he is so much more. His parents really have raised him to be a respectful individual. Sharpay wonders if Troy could ever learn to love somebody like herself, from the other side of the track.

"Are you warm enough?" He asks her, concerned about the shiver that seems to have taken up residence in the base of her spine.

Sharpay smiles, turning in his arms, and places a small kiss to the corner of his temple.

"What are we doing, Troy? You have Gabriella, and this … It's wrong. You shouldn't be doing this to her."

Sharpay digs down to find her inner bitch and unleashes her tempest with regret and sadness fueling the malice that laces her voice.

"You've had your taste of the good life, what more could you want? Well be my guest, but you're not going to use me anymore. This is goodbye, Troy Bolton."

Sharpay slips her sparkling pink kaftan over her head and turns her back, walking away. She lifts her hand and wiggles her fingers as she calls over her shoulder.

"Toodles."

Troy has no idea what the hell just happened. What did he do wrong? Is it something he said?

And then it hits him like a tonne of bricks.

For the second time in the space of a week, he has had unprotected sex with Sharpay Evans.


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**Thanks for all of the awesome reviews. You guys totally made my day!**

**Thinking about doing a few Troypay one-shots if anybody has a request?  
**

* * *

"You did what?" Ryan asks his twin, hoping that he really hadn't heard her correctly the first time she'd explained her predicament.

Sharpay exhales a breath and looks up at her brother. She's sitting on her bedspread with her legs crossed and her head in her hands.

"I seduced Troy Bolton."

"That's what I thought you said."

"Ryan," Sharpay pleads, trying to stifle her tears as she clamps her eyes shut and shakes her head. "You're all I've got, you're my twin and we came into this world together, so I need you to stick by me, no matter what happens."

Ryan remains silent and still, mulling over his sister's words before he opens his mouth to speak. He looks down at her, his forefinger scratching his forehead like something doesn't add up in his mind.

"Sharpay," He says suddenly, "When did you get a conscience?"

"Ryan," Sharpay cries, the curious sensation of errant tears burning her cheeks as she hiccups.

Ryan watches her, his mouth agape and a pained expression on his face. This is not Sharpay, this is not like her at all. He knows that she's right, she's his sister, and she's going to need him, but he just can't reconcile the Sharpay he knows, with the woman in front of him.

Sharpay doesn't cry. She just sort of… gets even.

"Sharpay," He says honestly, hoping to ease her pain, trying to appease like he has always felt is his duty. "I'm here for you. Together we can be as great as Sammy and Dean and, well … the Rat Pack."

Sharpay furrows her brow and cocks her head, glaring at her brother. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and takes a ragged breath, inhaling as deeply as she possibly can.

"Run, Ryan. Run away while you can."

She extends her arm and points to her bedroom door.

"Save yourself, the family is depending on you now. I'm a disappointment, I have no hope. Go while you still have a chance."

Ryan shakes his head and claps his hands, breaking Sharpay from her musings of paranoia.

"No, Sharpay," He says, sincerely, as he kneels upon the bed beside her. "No. You have always been the one to push me, and now I really understand why. You're not a bad person, Sharpay. You're not a disappointment, you're my sister. It's my job to take care of you."

Sharpay drags her thumbs across her face, wiping away her tears, and sniveling into the cuff of her gold Gucci bolero. She gives Ryan a weak smile, and takes the hand that he offers, the proverbial olive branch.

"Troy is going to hate me. He's going to think that I've done this on purpose."

"You did," Ryan adds as an afterthought.

Sharpay rolls her eyes.

"You don't get it, do you? Troy Bolton, the most popular boy in school. People are going to assume that I lead him astray; do you know how this is going to look? I mean, I panicked. I pushed him away. I had to make it seem like a mistake." Sharpay twists the diamond ring around her knuckle and shrugs briefly.

"Troy is a decent guy, he's popular, and …"

"And you really, really like him?"

"I most certainly do not."

"Face it, Sharpay. You've always had a crush on Troy Bolton, and now you might be having his baby. You're right; this is going to look bad."

Sharpay folds her arms around herself, trying to mold herself into a tiny, insignificant ball. She draws her knees up and tucks them under her chin, resting her forehead against the silky smooth skin.

"I don't feel so well today. I think I'm going to stay at home, Ryan. Can you cover for me?"

Her brother dips his head and smiles.

"Yeah, I can."

He shifts his frame from the bulk of her bed, allowing her the virtue of privacy. There's a lot she needs to figure out, to come to terms with, before she can set her best foot, best foot with shiny pink lacquered toes, first.

"Sharpay?" Ryan asks from the door as he turns back to look at his sister over his shoulder, the door handle gripped firmly in the palm of his hand.

"Mmm?" She meets his gaze and her eyes sparkle with the onslaught of unshed tears.

"I was just thinking, you know. At least you know that Troy Bolton wanted you. I mean, that he wants you. You didn't force him in to anything, Sharpay."

The corner of Sharpay's mouth curls up slightly and only briefly as she affords herself the chance of hope, not matter how fleeting the odds might be.

"Yeah, he did, didn't he?"

* * *

"Ryan, wait."

Troy's legs carry him across the immaculate lawn, springing from the impact as his joints make contact with the ground beneath his steady feet.

Gliding along a polished court has kept him agile and his limbs move of their own accord to cover the distance between himself and Sharpay's brother.

"Ryan," Troy breathes heavily after his brisk jog across the Lava Springs putting pavilion.

"Hello, Troy. What can I do for you?"

Troy startles. Something's not right with this particular line of conversation. Ryan would never willingly offer assistance, at least, not to him.

"I, ah, I had a nine a.m. with Sharpay this morning. She's always fifteen minutes early, and it's now after nine. I was just wondering if you know where she is?"

"At home," He tells Troy. "She's sick. I'm afraid she won't be golfing with you today."

"Oh, okay. Well, thanks."

"She told me," Ryan continues to speak. "She told me everything that happened, Troy."

Instinctively, Troy takes a step back from Ryan and holds both hands out in front of himself. It's a knee jerk reaction and takes a minute for Troy to unfold his ridiculous pose. This is Ryan, there's no possible way that he could end up with a shiner.

"I feel like an idiot. I can't believe that I did that to Sharpay. She deserves better, I'll be there for whatever she needs, and I'll support her, no matter what happens. I promise."

Troy babbles on, oblivious to the way that Ryan cocks his head and concentrates on the one sided conversation.

"I mean, the first time, that was just an honest mistake, we got caught up in the moment, and I let's face it, Sharpay is so, so, so … well, she's Sharpay."

The look on Ryan's face turns to one of utter disgust and he's silently pleased that Troy did not continue with the latter statement.

"She hates me, doesn't she? I don't really blame her after what I did …"

"Wait. Stop." Ryan raises his forefinger in a bid to signal his need for complete and utter silence.

"what exactly did you do to Sharpay?"

"This is a little awkward," Troy bristles, looking at towards the ground.

"Believe me when I say that it hurts me more than it hurts you."

"Well," Troy squares his shoulders and holds his head high, looking Ryan in the eyes. "I didn't protect Sharpay. I know that in health class they tell you that it's not just the guy's responsibility, but I still should have done the right thing. I can't believe I forgot and now …"

"So you're saying that you admit that this," Ryan flails his arms about in front of him, giving the general impression of Troy and Sharpay's union. "That this was your entire fault?"

Troy shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers and looks guilty as he nods his head. He closes his eyes and draws a shaky hand through his disheveled hair before looking up at Ryan again.

"Yeah. It's my fault. And I hope to God that Sharpay can forgive me."

Ryan is taken by the honesty in Troy's conviction. Sharpay very effectively tricked Troy into believing that this fiasco was all his own doing. But Troy already blames himself. Maybe Sharpay will be alright after all? Maybe Troy will never know.

Ryan brings his hand to his head. These two are even more messed up than Shirley Temple, and she was just a kid yodeling about the probability of animal crackers.

But Ryan had made a promise to Sharpay, and he intends to come through for his beloved Golden throat.

Ryan takes a step forward and claps Troy on the back of the shoulder proudly.

"Well, all I can say is welcome to the family. I'm sure you'll make my niece or nephew a fine father."

* * *

Troy is still standing in the entrance of the spa foyer with his hands in his pockets when Taylor and Chad approach him not ten minutes later.

Ryan is long gone, but the notion that he might be a father, the fact that somebody has actually voiced the proposal doesn't seem to sit well with Troy and his gut.

He likes Sharpay, maybe even loves …

"I said earth to Troy, are you even listening to me?"

Taylor turns to Chad who's cowering behind the pot plant off to the side of the marble staircase.

"Chad, you're his friend. You do it."

Chad pretends to ignore Taylor, his fingers dancing across the length of foliage that he grasps tightly in his hand.

"I think this fern needs water or something, it's looking a little limp."

Taylor shakes her head and mutters beneath her breath.

"Coward."

"What's up, Tay? You and Chad on your lunch break already? Want to go grab a burger or something?"

"Sure thing, Man." Chad pipes up, finally making his presence known.

"No, Troy. We didn't come here to get a burger. We came here to confront you, right Chad? This is an intervention."

Troy begins to laugh. He still hasn't caught on.

"We know about your little romp with Sharpay, Troy. And Chad and I are here to tell you that if you don't tell Gabriella, then we will."

Troy doesn't seem to see the funny side of the idea so much anymore and his body stiffens and his breath hitches in his throat. He's pretty sure that Taylor has just threatened him.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you were having sex with Sharpay last night in the pool out by the Tiki bar," Taylor states with malevolence in her audible tone.

_Shit._

"Sorry man," Chad says from behind Taylor. "I mean, I think Sharpay's okay. I guess, if that's what makes you happy, but you know, Gabbi is our friend. She deserves better."

"Didn't expect you to be the voice of reason," Troy sneers.

"Sorry," Chad shrugs.

"No, you're right, Taylor. Gabriella doesn't deserve a guy like me. I'm scum," Troy relents. "You have my word," He continues on before he loses his nerve. "I'll tell her straight away."


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**Thank you for all of the awesome reviews. My PM's don't seem to be working and I don't receive alerts, so I am doing my best to respond. If I've missed something, I'm not ignoring you at all. You're welcome to email me too.**

**As for the issue of Taylor, she annoys me. She was bound to come off as annoying in this story!**

**This chapter was not easy for me, I felt like Sharpay was OOC at times, but I wanted to strike a balance, especially because I feel like Troy is one person she can be completely honest with. Hope you enjoy this longer-ish update!  
**

* * *

Troy's palms are sweating and he rubs his hands on the insides of the pockets of his old blue jeans while he waits for Gabriella to get off work.

Sharpay has been missing in action for the better part of the last two weeks. He misses seeing her smile, the way her hips sway when she enters the room, the glint in her eye and the passion that engulfs him every time she takes a breath.

More often than not he's left speechless.

No Sharpay means no work for Troy, no reason to hang around Lava Springs like the third or fourth wheel. And while Gabriella is still on the payroll, the opportunity for one-on-one has played into the hands of lousy timing.

But he'd promised Taylor, and he knows that this confrontation is something that needs to happen. His parents raised him to be righteous, with morals and standards. So far, he's proved to himself that his hormones are in no way helping the cause.

Troy checks his watch again, tapping the face to ensure that it's in working order. According to the display, she should have been here fifteen minutes ago.

Troy arches his back and legs of his chair grate across the polished deck as he stands from his chair intent on pacing. He inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in a bid to collect himself. Before he takes his first step, Gabriella rounds the corner and beams when she surmises that Troy seems to have noticed her arrival.

Her hands are tightly clasped together as she moves across the expanse of balcony. There's a bounce in her step and Troy's heart gives a little as he realizes that as nice as she is, she'll never be Sharpay.

_At least she looks happy, _he thinks.

_It's not like you're in the final quarter of your championship game, forcing her to shoot for a basket that ultimately, won't help your team defeat the opponent._

_Just make the cut clean. She'll heal with time._

Troy looks up from the table as she approaches with a smile.

"Gabriella, hi." He clears his throat, trying to regain some semblance of normal.

The young girl leans forward to place her lips upon his rugged cheek.

It doesn't tingle like it does when Sharpay does it.

"Hello, Troy." Gabriella begins. "It feels like such a long time since I've seen you. I've just been so busy with work and with whatever happened to Sharpay that made it even harder to see you. I know how much you liked your new job," She said innocently.

Troy tries not to flinch. Her words are sincere, but she really doesn't know.

"Yeah," He nods, faking a smile. "You've been busy and I'm not so busy."

_Liar._ His conscience cries as his gut twists up inside his belly. _You've been busy punishing yourself for the past three weeks. _

"Troy …"

"Gabbi …" He interrupts.

Gabriella twists a thin lock of hair around her finger and tucks it neatly behind her ear as she giggles.

"You go first."

"Right, good," Troy says nervously, shaking his head. "Because I really need to be honest with you. This is not the type of person I am, and I didn't mean to hurt you."

Gabriella smiles again.

"Troy, it's okay. Sometimes these things happen; it's not your fault."

"No, you don't understand. Gabbi," Troy takes a deep breath, trying to remain as calm as possible. He looks back at her face, fresh and clean, innocent and deserving of so much more.

"I had sex with Sharpay. I … we," Troy struggles. "It was a mutual thing. She needed somebody. I don't know why I'm trying to explain. It's not like you'll believe me," He sighs.

"Oh."

"Yeah, I ah, think that's why she's been avoiding me," He says simply.

"I'm sorry, Gab."

"Oh, no. It's okay, Troy. I mean, I know I've been focused on a lot, with the new job and my extra curricula activities. But," She swallows tightly, surprisingly calm, holding her demeanor. "You if there was something I was neglecting, you only had to tell me. We could have talked about it. I'm usually very studious when it comes to our relationship."

"It wasn't planned, Gabriella. It just happened. We didn't do it to hurt you."

"It's fine. Really, Troy. It's okay."

Troy nods silently, words seemingly meaningless at this point in time.

"Um, you should probably know that Taylor and Chad know too. Oh, and Ryan," He says, rubbing the back of his neck as though the motion might ease his anxiety.

"Well. I guess. We're you safe? I mean, you did practice safe sex, right?"

Troy hangs his head. Immoral shame creeps across his sullen face and Gabriella gasps.

"Oh, Troy. How could you?"

"It just happened."

Gabriella bites her lip, exhaling through her nose as she tries to stifle her tears lest the bastard see her cry. There's one very important question lagging on her tongue, but she needs to swallow the courage to be able to deal with the repercussions.

The two sit quietly for a moment, amicably even, given the fact that Troy has just confessed his sins to her.

"Are you in love with Sharpay?" She finally asks; her voice notably shaky.

Troy looks at his hands, his fingers drumming upon the tempered glass table-top. He looks back at Gabriella, his brow furrowed in thought.

"There are feelings, I have feelings for her. I don't think I can tell you that I am in love with Sharpay, I don't really know."

"So," She nods in Troy's direction. "You and I, are we over, is there any chance that we can talk this out? I thought we had something special. You, you promised, Troy. You promised to be my first."

Her words burn like salt in the wound. Had he really promised her that? Was she really the one that he ached for at night? When he hadn't known any better?

"If Sharpay is …" He trails off, his words are self explanatory and he doesn't want to add to the emotion passed between them right now.

"It's not right to stay with her just for the sake of a child, Troy. It's not fair to the child or to Sharpay."

"I can't just abandon her. It's not right, Gab. I'm scared, but I won't walk away from Sharpay. Not when this is my fault."

"It takes two, Troy." Gabriella raises her voice, trying to push her point home, grasping at the fragile straws falling through her fingers. "What about your future? I know what your dad would say."

"This is my life," Troy says, standing up over her as she sits on the other side of the table watching his anger erupt in a fit of rage. "This is my life, and it could be my child's life too. You have no say in that, Gabriella."

Troy moves aside and tucks the chair back beneath the table. He grips the solid frame, his knuckles white, his arms trembling as he tries to reign in his frustration.

How dare she bring his father into this.

He hates that he has made a scene, the other patrons lifting a brow and lending an ear for the duration of the Troy Bolton show.

"You have a lot to think about, Troy. I should probably get going; my mother will wonder why I'm late home."

Troy sags, his body is spent, his mind, a chaotic state of panic. He closes his eyes, anticipating the shuffle of her broken footsteps when the sound of her voice surprises him.

"Don't worry, Troy. Your secret is safe with me. I would never betray you like that."

And just like that, the winner is the one who controls the chaos, both her own and her enemies.

* * *

"Sharpay, it says right here on the box," Ryan holds the cardboard package, the images, bold like neon through smoky eyes, and Sharpay swallows thickly.

"It says ten to fourteen days after the … you know. It's been more than three weeks."

"Sex, Ryan. It was sex. You can say the word. And this is pointless. There's absolutely no reason for me to take the test."

"Sharpay," Ryan sighs. "This is serious, Sister. You have to find out; Troy has a right to know."

Sharpay squares her shoulders, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder and takes the small blue device from her brother. The ugly plastic seems to mock her as she glares at the unsightly stick before disappearing into the depths of her powder room.

"I kept you in mind when I made the purchase. I brought you the digital one," Ryan throws back at Sharpay before leaving the room to answer the knock at the front door.

* * *

Sharpay sits on the bathroom floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, her forearm leaning on the toilet seat as she tries to curl herself into a small ball.

"I'm so sorry, Troy." She sobs into the crook of her elbow, silent tear tracks forging their way across her alabaster cheeks.

"I'm the one who should be sorry."

Sharpay slumps her shoulders as her distress becomes her and she sobs uncontrollably.

"Great, now I'm hearing voices," She whispers to her porcelain companion.

"Sharpay?"

"Troy?"

Sharpay lifts her head. Her face is red, her eyes are raw and her nose is wet as she sniffles, wiping her mouth on the cuff of her sleeve.

"Troy, what are you doing here?" She asks, still dumbstruck by his very presence.

"I wanted to see you."

It's a simple answer, because there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

Sharpay shakes her head and looks back down at her sparkly silver toes.

"Go home, Troy. You don't belong here."

Troy steps out of his trainers and crosses the threshold onto the tiles beneath his feet. The floor is surprisingly warm for a bathroom surface and he makes a mental note to mention this to his father. They could really stand to do with an upgrade.

He pads across the room, taking his seat next to Sharpay. He crosses his legs and they sit together in silence before his eyes descend upon the pregnancy test nestled at the base of the basin.

"I wanted to come and apologize," He says sincerely. "I've missed you at work. I get why you needed space," He points towards the basin, "But I think it's time for us to talk, don't you?"

"I'm so sorry," Sharpay whispers. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I don't really like myself very much right now."

Troy's fingers wrap around Sharpay's wrist and he tugs at her hand, letting it come to rest upon the top of his knee.

"No, this is my fault. I should have protected you, Sharpay."

"No, Troy, you're wrong," Sharpay cries. "I was the one who seduced you; I was the one who told you it would be okay. I messed up. I never mess up."

"Wait, Sharpay, what are you saying?"

Lacing their fingers together, Troy strokes the palm of her hand with his thumb, encouraging her to speak to him.

Sharpay turns her head to look at Troy. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears; her cheeks bear the brunt of the battle already surrendered.

"The first time," She says with a shaky voice, her tone an octave below that of normal. "When we made love in my dressing room. You weren't sure, you hesitated, you wanted to stop, but I told you that it was okay, that I trusted you."

Sharpay shakes her head and exhales a breath she seems to have been holding for the longest time.

"I knew, Troy. I knew what we had done, but I didn't tell you. I met you at the pool; I did it again, only the second time, I planned it all. I thought …"

"You thought that you had to make it look like it was my fault," Troy says honestly, his voice void of all emotion.

Sharpay tries to force her hand from Troy's grip, but his fingers tighten and he lifts their joined hands up to his lips.

"What you didn't bank on, was the fact that I would blame myself."

"What?" Sharpay asks abruptly, lifting her arm from the toilet seat and twisting her body to face Troy completely.

"Once I realized, when I thought about it, and I really realized what we'd done, I blamed myself, Sharpay. I'm just as responsible as you, I should have taken precautions. I should have given you more than a roll on the floor of your dressing room. I meant what I said, it should have been special."

"It was special," Sharpay says, pointing towards the test that sits next to them on her bathroom floor. The word 'Pregnant' clearly visible in the results window."

"I think we're both feeling pretty silly right now," Troy offers softly, and then closes his eyes as his next sentence strikes fear deep within Sharpay's heart.

"I spoke to Gabriella today. That's where I was earlier. I couldn't keep something like this from her."

"I see," Sharpay says, pulling her hand from Troy's and moving to her haunches so that she can hoist herself into a standing position. "If she makes you happy, you need to be with her. We had fun. It's no big deal."

Troy follows suit, turning to face Sharpay, both of his thick hands coming to frame her pale face, his thumbs brushing the tears from her eyes.

"Sharpay, you're pregnant. You're having my baby. You'll grow, and the baby will move inside of you and I'll be there to watch you give birth. That's a lot more than fun. It's amazing."

"I thought you were going to stay with Gabbi," Sharpay admits shyly, worrying her bottom lip beneath her tongue.

Troy shakes his head vehemently.

"Not a chance."

"Sharpay, you're amazing. I want to get to know the real you, I want you to realize that you don't have to act around me; you don't need to be anybody other than you. Please, let me do this," Troy pleads his case. "Let me do this for us, for our child.

He places the palm of his hand upon her still flat abdomen and smiles.

"This is for keeps."

The tears begin to stream and Sharpay lets them fall this time without restraint. She's tired of fighting the inevitable.

"Sharpay?" Troy asks, worried about the sudden turn in her emotions, not yet aware of the fact that her hormones will soon path his way through this time in his life.

Sharpay sniffs.

"All I asked for was one song, one song, Troy Bolton, and this is what you gave me."

"Sharpay, I know this is scary, and I know that we didn't plan this, but it doesn't have to be a bad thing. It doesn't mean that our lives end here and now."

Sharpay smiles.

"I think I could kiss you, Troy Bolton."

"I think," Troy says, as he presses his lips to the shell of her ear. "That that is a very good idea."


	8. Chapter 8

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**This chapter is fairly choppy, I apologise for that.**

**Getting into the guts of things now. I love trying to portray the two sides of Sharpay. Tough on the outside, completely different inside. Jack was harder. He's fairly stereotypically grumpy and quite possibly psychotic. **

**Enjoy.**

**AN - (Please read an review another awesome Troypay story - All That Glitters. -xGuiltyxPleasure- is a fabulous author!)**

* * *

Having placated Sharpay for the better part of the late afternoon, Troy now finds himself sprawled out along the length of Sharpay's spacious King sized bed. His arms are folded beneath his head as he props himself up on the feather down pillow, his feet are lazily crossed at the ankles and a pale pink sheet, the very shade of fine cotton candy, is pulled up over his abdomen, concealing his modesty.

He watches Sharpay as she roots around in the confines of her walk in closet. She's tossing clothes aside, the haphazard pile seemingly mounting as she continues her assault, wielding cashmere like a lethal weapon.

Troy pinches his nose and rubs his eyes as he leans back against the head board and shakes his head. _What on earth does she hope to achieve?_

"Pay, what are you doing?" He asks like a completely clueless child. With Sharpay, there have always been shades of gray.

When she doesn't answer the first time, he arches his back and pushes himself into a sitting position.

"Sharpay? What's going on?"

Sharpay appears with an armful of what Troy considers to be distasteful leather. The pants are gold, there's very little to be left to the imagination and even though it seems as if she might as well have been gilded, Troy can't help the way that the corner of his mouth twitches and he smirks.

"What do you think of these?" Sharpay asks as she holds the metallic fabric against her body and admires her style.

"They're pretty bright," Troy shrugs.

Sharpay looks at him, her face a mask of silent pain as she frowns.

"Do you think so? I mean, I woke up and thought that maybe it was time to tone down my wardrobe. I mean, I'm a mom now, it's the least I can do."

"And you really think that they," Troy extends his free arm and points at the offending article, "Are going to help you to 'tone down your wardrobe'? He repeats the tail end of her sentence and then cocks an eyebrow.

"Don't you like them? I can totally pair them with flats, a gold headband … Oh, and a double strand beaded bracelet."

"Sharpay, sometimes you really scare me," Troy states, completely oblivious to the way that Sharpay drops her hip and her bottom lip trembles.

"But you've always kind of scared me," Troy continues. "I guess that's why I'm so attracted to you."

Troy picks at the hem of the sheet that is draped across his waist, his eyes now cast down as he fiddles. He stopped himself short of pronouncing the one word that he's finally come to acknowledge. Their fledgling relationship, if he can call it that, would never be able to bear the strain.

Sharpay relinquishes her hold on the pants and lowers herself to the floor at the bottom of the spectacular pile.

"I don't get it. I've always tried to maintain a certain standard, I thought boys liked that. And now you're telling me that I'm just …" Sharpay tries to search for the right word, "I'm what? Just some kind of joke, Troy? Is that what you're saying?"

"No, no. Sharpay."

Troy scrambles from the bed and kneels down before her, cupping her face in his hands.

"No. I mean, you're unique, yes. But, that's why I like you, you're just you."

Sharpay removes Troy's hands and lowers her head, ashamed of her tears, for the first time in her conceited life; she's confronted with a sense of realism.

"I can't help what I know," She tells him solemnly. "I can't help the way my parents raised me."

Sharpay eases herself up off the plush carpet and turns away, she can't bear to look at Troy, she can't bear the thought that he looks at her differently.

"Sharpay, where are you going?"

Sharpay closes her eyes, willing the tears to evaporate. She takes a deep breath, counting to ten as she focuses on her third eye, trying to calm her emotions.

"I'm going to have a shower," She tells Troy, her voice wavering with her next sentence. "I need to inform my parents. They need to prepare."

"Oh, okay," Troy beams with fatherly pride. "Why don't I come with you? We can tell them together."

"No, that's okay. I think you should just leave, Bolton. I'm quite capable of telling my parents that the Golden Boy of East High has impregnated their beloved daughter," Sharpay spits vehemently.

"What?"

"Ryan," Sharpay shouts. "Ryan."

The tears start to form in her eyes and she visibly trembles. Troy steps forward hoping to calm her for the sake of his child.

_Shit._

He chastises himself as he realises his mistake too late.

"Ryan," Sharpay audibly snivels as she wraps her silken robe around her bare body.

There's a knock at the bedroom door and Sharpay turns the knob so that her twin can enter. She throws herself into his arms and sobs upon his shoulder, her whole body shaking.

"Oh, Troy," Ryan says, diverting his line of sight so that he doesn't embarrass his sisters lover.

"Crap."

Troy reaches into his jeans and pulls out his boxers, turning them in the right way as he slips into them, and pulls on his jeans. He secures the button but fumbles with his belt buckle.

"Look, Ryan," He says, turning to face the boy, his bottom half covered, his chest still exposed.

Ryan holds up a hand to hault Troy's train of thought, speaking out of turn.

"I think you should go, Troy. Sharpay is upset."

"Of course, I mean … Her condition and all," He gestures to Sharpay's midsection.

Sharpay's shoulders heave and Troy retrieves his shirt, pulling it over his head as he moves towards the door.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Sharpay," He tells her honestly, his hand gripping the door knob, his feet resisting the urge to return to her side and take her back into his own warm embrace the way that he had only hours before.

When the click of the lock assures Sharpay that Troy has left the sanctuary of her room, she lifts her head from her brother's shoulder and wipes her puffy eyes.

"Thank you. He wouldn't leave."

"Sharpay, what happened?"

"Troy and I, we come from two different worlds. You and I, Ryan, we're like one of a kind."

"Except that there are two of us," Ryan offers.

"He'll never be able to understand who I am. Why bother trying?"

"Because you love him, and I'm sorry that I have to be the one to tell you this, Shar, but you're a different person when you're with Troy. You're like, more human, or something."

"I can't be a mother to this child," Sharpay says quietly, almost reverently. "I'm going to give this child to somebody who can give the baby everything, Ryan. I'm giving the baby up for adoption."

"Sharpay," Ryan takes a step back, grasping his sister by the forearms and looking at her sternly. "What are you planning?"

"Don't worry, I'll be okay," Sharpay says with a sad smile, the kind of smile that lingers.

* * *

Sharpay wipes the foggy mirror with the corner of her towel and looks at her reflection, the sad, weary teenager with pale skin and tired eyes. Her skin is dry and her forehead is dotted with angry blemishes that look unsightly. Her hormones have turned on her.

Sharpay places the tips of her fingers on her still flat tummy and smoothes the skin there as if stroking her child with a soothing motion.

"I'm sorry. Troy's a good guy, but we're not meant to be together. He has Gabriella; and her life is far less complicated than mine. My parents have expectations, they would never understand."

Sharpay sighs and removes her hand.

"I'll find you a really nice family. I promise."

* * *

Sharpay listens to her father speak, having explained her predicament, she hadn't really expected much more than has eventuated.

"Yes Daddy, I know you're disappointed. I am too. But you know that I'm so very sorry, and I'm still your Princess."

"_Sharpay," Says Vance, "I gave that boy opportunities, I offered him connections, and this is how he repays me?"_

"Daddy, please. Don't blame Troy. It's not his fault."

"_We'll take care of this, Princess. Daddy will take care of it, I promise. I'm not going to let the Bolton kid get away with this."_

"Daddy, no. This has nothing to do with Troy, okay. I just want you to take care of me. Do you think you can do that for me? Please," Sharpay pleads with her father.

"_Of course, baby. Daddy can do that. Whatever you need."_

"I'm not keeping the baby. I need you to find suitable accommodation for me, away from Albuquerque. I need to contact an adoption agency and I need a reliable doctor. I know you have contacts."

"_It sounds like you've thought this through, Sweetheart."_

Sharpay can feel her heart beating out a staccato rhythm. Her lungs are burning and she's trying to swallow the bile that seems to be culminating at the base of her throat.

"I have. I'm not a mother, I'm not meant to be a mother. A single, unwed, uptown teen, it's not the image I want for myself."

"_And you think the Bolton kid will agree to all of this, Princess? I'm afraid no matter what I think, he still has rights."_

"What Troy doesn't know can't hurt him, Daddy."

"_Oh Baby. I'm very disappointed. I only ever wanted the best for you; this is not the way you should have to start your life. It just doesn't seem right."_

Sharpay grips the receiver tightly, her knuckles aching from the hold that she adopts.

"I'm sorry to be such a disappointment. I'm so sorry," Sharpay sobs into the phone.

"_Shh," Her father soothes his baby girl. "It's going to be okay, we can fix this, Princess. Daddy's money can fix anything."_

"New York," Sharpay whispers. "I think I'd like to go to New York."

"_Baby, that's a long way away. Are you sure?"_

"It's about as far away from Albuquerque as I can manage."

Sharpay studies her nails and then taps her free hand upon the bench top as her nerves begin to get the better of her.

"_You know your mother won't approve."_

"She's probably too busy with her downward dog to care," Sharpay scoffs.

"_Sweetheart, you've been trying to win this boy's attention for as long as I can remember with little success. Your mother's a romantic. You know that."_

"Daddy."

"_Alright Princess, you have my word. I will do whatever I can to help you with this. Though I'm not too sure how I feel about you being left in your brother's care. Sometimes, he's a little too fruity for my liking, if you get what I mean."_

Sharpay chuckles.

"Daddy, Ryan is fine. He's just a little awkward."

"_If you say so, Baby. I trust your judgment."_

Though she'll never admit it, Sharpay is frightened by the set of circumstances she currently finds herself caught up in. If only she had shabby clothes or shoddy furniture to be ashamed of. If only this situation weren't so hopeless.

* * *

"So she's pregnant. And you're sure of this?" Troy's father asks as he paces the carpeted floor in the living room.

"Yeah, that's what the test said."

"And you've seen this test have you?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Those tests can be wrong you know."

Troy hangs his head, his arms drop to his sides and his hands ball into fists as he forces himself to face the facts.

"We … Ah … We had unprotected sex," Troy says honestly. "A few times."

"How the hell could you be so irresponsible?" Jack Bolton asks his son. "You know about the risks involved when you make that decision. I should know; I gave you the talk myself. It's my fault. I blame myself," He continues to mumble as he shakes his head.

"Why do you end as if this is the end of the world? Huh? Go on, say it. I'm a disappointment, I can't do anything right. In your eyes, I've always been a failure."

Coach Bolton is knocked off his even keel by the fire in his son's conviction. He's witnessed Troy's passion before, when the chips were down and he had to fight just to feel alive. Troy has always possessed the strength and patience to chase his dreams. Each time his tiny feet had carried him across the concrete driveway in pursuit of a ball, his father had known Troy was destined for something special.

"We're talking about a child, Troy. Grow up, this isn't about you anymore."

The spiteful words seem to flow between the father and son, but the silence is what brings them to their knees. The sound of their breathing echoes as they stare each other down.

"Do you love her?" Jack asks his son curiously.

"Yes," Troy says without having to think about it. "I love her, and I want to give that love the chance it deserves. I want my baby to know that kind of love."

"Well that's something I suppose."

"You act like you've never made a mistake, Dad. All the time, it's like you're so much better than me. You're the big coach and I'm just your stupid kid playing basketball, nothing I say ever matters."

"It's not every day my stupid kid gets a girl pregnant."

"You know what," Says Troy. "If you won't help me, then I don't need you. I'll help Sharpay myself."

"You're making a mistake, Troy. Think about your future, think about everything we've worked for. Don't throw that away now, not for some high society drama queen who thinks she can take what she likes from the world. She comes from money, you're not like that."

"I'll be at Chad's house tonight," Troy says angrily as he walks away from his father.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm speaking to you."

Troy doesn't acknowledge his father; he doesn't even pretend to hear the words that echo in his ears.

* * *

Troy checks his watch as he stands on the steps of the Evans' front porch. It's not too late, but he hopes that Sharpay is still awake and willing to forgive him for his stupid boy mentality and his verbal diarrhea.

He rings the doorbell and waits for a moment before he hears steady footsteps approaching. He jostles the parcel tucked under his arm and smoothes a trembling hand through his head of thick hair before he smacks the side of his cheek and prepares himself for the worst of Sharpay Evans.

He hopes that she'll be proud of his efforts. He managed to purchase her a knitted sweater, baby pink with golden trim and little buttons. The saleswoman assured him it would go nicely with her golden trousers.

"Troy?" Ryan asks as he opens the door to the mansion and ushers the young boy into the front foyer.

"Hi, look, I know it's late, but I wanted to come by and give this to Sharpay. I mean, I know it's not designer, but I'm hoping that maybe she'll like it."

"Troy," Ryan shakes his head and closes the door behind them.

"What is it? Is Sharpay asleep? I'll just leave this here and come back in the morning. I guess she's had a rough day, and the hormones are getting to her, right?"

"Sharpay moved out today," Ryan says clearly and without delay.

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know. She left me a note that said that she was leaving town, that she would be safe and not to worry."

"Oh," Troy furrows his brow and his eyes move from side to side as he considers this new information.

"Troy," Ryan says, his words breaking the silence. "I'm worried."

"It's okay, we'll find her. She can't have gone far. This is Sharpay we're talking about. Maybe she went to Lava Springs to get away for the night, maybe she needed to be pampered. I'm not doing a very good job, am I?"

"Don't blame yourself. Like you said, this is Sharpay. Maybe this is her way of punishing us, you know, she's doing her _girl _thing."

"Right, I mean, she wouldn't leave and not tell me, not with the baby, right? I'm the baby's father, Ryan."

"Oh, I know, I'm Uncle Ryan, the title is really starting to grow on me you know, such responsibility, it's time for me to grow up and be a man."

Troy gives Ryan an awkward look from the corner of his eye.

"Uh, yeah."

"Sorry," Ryan says sheepishly. "I tend to babble when I'm nervous."

Troy isn't listening though, he's beating himself up trying to figure out where Sharpay is and why he feels like its all how own fault.


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't own them. I share.**

**I am sick and it's late, please forgive the mistakes. **

**Enjoy and please review. **

* * *

Troy stuffs his hands into his shorts and keeps his head bowed as his feet hit the pavement and he walks across the crowded street. His shoulders are slouched and he gives the impression of a man defeated, a broken soul destroyed by his wounds, suffering for his own foolish negligence.

He holds Sharpay in his mind even though he continues to act the way that he has always acted. He has abandoned all sense of hope, even though he imagines the face of his child when he stutters for a quiet moment. He moves on confidently in the direction of his dreams, even though he leaves reality behind.

He refuses to speak to his father, occasionally acquainting himself with his mother for the sake of self preservation. He's not sure how much longer he can hole up with Chad and his family, but Ryan has offered support on more than one occasion and Troy can see no reason to decline should it come to that.

His head hurts, the migraines come more frequently these days. He can't focus on his game, but it's of little importance in comparison to the wonders that unfold without him.

He runs aimless circles and he sidesteps when he has to. He's on the offense, while his defense lacks organization. He's a well oiled machine, but he can't focus his direction and the strain is beginning to wear him down.

His team mates try to concentrate their efforts in the hope that he won't dwell on what went wrong, but goals are just a means to an end and Troy has lost his will to fight, a father with nothing to show for himself.

His t-shirt sticks to his body as the humidity circulates across his rippling abdominal muscles; the sun reflects off his belt buckle and gleams like a candle in the mirror and Troy still places one foot in front of the other, counting each stride, stepping over each crack.

His fringe falls across his forehead and he flicks his face up to run a hand through his shaggy locks when his gaze falls upon a woman seated in the coffee shop on the corner of the block.

Her hair has grown, her brow is furrowed as she concentrates on something that seems important and Troy feels his breath catch in his throat as a knot forms in the base of his gut.

Sharpay.

Six weeks of heartache, of mindless inquiries and sleepless nights and she has been here all along, her father's money buying her silence.

He watches her tap her lead pencil on the table in front of her. The fuzzy pink feathers sway from the impact and he remembers the moment she stood in front of him with her golf club in hand, his hands upon her tiny waist and the sway of her hips. He'd been smitten from the very beginning and she'd taken his heart and unraveled it, running into the wind, opening his soul and making him vulnerable.

Her body is hidden from his view, he can see her profile and he wonders what he might find if he approaches her, if he bites the bullet and confronts the woman who carries his child within her precious womb.

"Excuse me, Son. Are you going in?"

"Huh?" Troy turns to see a stocky man with broad shoulders and salt and pepper short back and sides staring at him with curious eyes.

"Are you alright? You were just standing in the doorway. I didn't mean to alarm you."

"Oh. Oh, no. Sorry. I just got distracted."

Troy steps away from the door and the middle aged gentleman nods his thanks as he enters the air conditioned shop to escape the heat. The bell acknowledges his presence and Troy is left with his thoughts once more.

The anger spirals slowly, thoughts of resentment play across his clouded mind and before he realizes what he's doing he draws back his fist and it makes contact with the red brick veneer.

The impact of the blow leaves his knuckles bleeding, but Troy doesn't care, he doesn't acknowledge the pain because it's not all consuming, it's not like the ache in his heart, that whole body ache rooted so deeply inside.

He has to confront her, though he doesn't want to frighten her, but he thinks that surely, he must have rights as the guy who has fathered her baby.

Troy glances at his hand, swollen and red. Falling in love was never going to be easy.

He exhales with his hand on the doorknob and pushes it open as he steps across the threshold, into her presence.

His heart beats as the aroma of her scent permeates his senses. The sweetness of the atmosphere takes him back to that dressing room all those months ago, feeling of worth had flourished, communication had been open and the rules had been flexible, the rules had been broken.

"Sharpay?" The word rolls from his tongue like a prayer. Even in his darkest moments, she is his saving grace.

When his voice filters across her consciousness, Sharpay stills, her eyes clamped shut, as she wills her imagination to stop creating an illusion.

She forces herself to swallow the bile that has risen to her throat, but she can't tell if the nausea is due to her nerves or the morning sickness that has become quite an inconvenience.

"Hello, Troy."

Sharpay looks up from her notebook and meets his gaze, his eyes, so forlorn, like a lost cause, the kind her father always warned her about. But Sharpay arches her back and lifts her chin and resolves not to fall for his golden boy charm. Not again.

"Sharpay," Troy notices the mug that sits on a little cork coaster beside her shiny pencil case. "Is that coffee?" He asks, and then kicks himself as hard as he can. He's trying to earn back her trust.

Sharpay rolls her eyes and sighs. Of course he asked about the beverage.

"No, it's most certainly not. I can't very well have a Venti caramel latte when there's a fetus inside of me."

"A fetus?"

Troy scrunches his nose, fetus sounds like she's talking about an animal, not their child.

"The obstetrician has assured me that the fetus is gestating nicely."

_The fetus. Gestating nicely?_ What the hell is that all about?

"Sharpay," Troy says as quietly as he can without causing a commotion. "It's not a fetus, that's our baby. How can you be so … so weird about it like that?"

"It's simple actually. I'm not keeping the fetus after it is born."

"What?" Troy looks shocked, speechless. He runs his hand through his hair, his eyes pleading with her.

"Take a seat," Sharpay offers.

Sharpay places her pencil down on the table and laces her hands together, placing her joined fists in her lap while she crosses her legs and sits back in her chair.

"I'm giving the child up for adoption."

Troy grips the table, his knuckles tremble as he tries to compose himself. His face pales and his throat is dry, he finds it hard to swallow, he can't speak, he seems to have lost the ability.

Sharpay's words hit Troy with a heavy blow. His head spins for a moment and before he can blink, he's standing at the free throw line with a ball in his hands. He stares at the ball, looking for answers and a bead of sweat trickles from his brow, traveling past his temple and down the side of his cheek. He looks to his father who simply folds his arms and smirks.

"You … you can't do that, Sharpay. You can't, I … I have rights too you know," Troy chokes out, barely able to stifle the sob in his voice.

Sharpay leans across the table and pats his hand, smiling as she does so.

"It's for the best. The physical and emotional needs of the child should be our primary consideration. I'm not old enough to be a mother. I have hopes and dreams; I have a ten year plan, Troy."

"Is that what this is about, Sharpay? I … I mean, you're not the only one who has hopes for the future. Don't you think you're being selfish?"

"That's the whole point, Troy. I am a selfish person, bad Sharpay," She berates herself in front of him.

Troy shakes his head; he cannot believe what he is hearing. She wants to take his child, to give his child away as if it is insignificant, like the baby means nothing.

"I won't let you. You can't do it," Troy argues, determined to get her to change her mind.

Sharpay cocks her brow and looks at him, his determination breaks her heart. But Sharpay is an actress, she can do this, she can pull this off.

"I'm not going to name you as the father, so you don't have to worry about anything. Daddy is helping me pull some strings. The family is nice, you would like them. This is for the best Troy. I hope that one day, you will understand."

"All I understand right now is that you're crazy. You really are crazy, Sharpay. I can't believe you're the same girl I gave my virginity to, the girl I actually thought I was in love with. I told myself you would make such a great mother, that we could be a family, that I would love you both with all of my heart. But I guess I was wrong."

Sharpay tries not to cringe as Troy reels off his speech like he's practiced it a thousand times.

And then he lands the final shot.

"I can't believe that I hurt Gabbi because of you. I can't believe you would let me walk away from her, and then abandon me. I could have been with her. We could have made things work."

"I'm sorry, Troy. I know I'm not perfect, I mean, I try, but I'm not and I'm sorry."

Sharpay turns her face away from Troy and wipes the corner of her eye with the cuff of her sleeve. A waitress approaches the two and places her hand on Sharpay's shoulder.

"You alright, Love?" She asks the teen.

"Yes," Sharpay sniffles before she stands and starts to pack her belongings into her purse. "Thank you, but I'm quite alright. Do you think I could get some sparkling water here? Please," Sharpay adds.

"Of course," The woman replies, glancing over her shoulder at the two as she returns to her post at the front counter.

Sharpay smoothes down her blouse and Troy notices that even in the short space of six weeks, her figure has changed. Her frame is still small, her waist is tiny, but her belly seems fuller, her hips a little wider. Her top doesn't fall the way it used to and as he contemplates this wonder, he realizes that the evidence of Sharpay's pregnancy is right in front of him.

Troy swallows thickly. It's early days yet, as far as he can tell, she's just three months along.

"Sharpay," Troy extends his hand and points to her midsection. It's barely there, but he is so sure that he can see a swell, that her abdomen is no longer flat, but rather, there's the hint of a curve where the child that he had fathered rests inside her belly.

"I can't do this Troy, not now, not ever, and especially not with you."

Troy pushes the seat out from under him and stands. He approaches Sharpay's side of the table, carefully, warily, before his feet shuffle to a halt beside her.

"Please, Sharpay. Think about this. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"There's nothing you can do. Move on with your life, learn Spanish, maybe Gabriella will like that."

Sharpay's own words surprise her.

"I can't just walk away from this, Sharpay. I am the father of this child. I can't just pretend that it doesn't exist."

"I said no, Troy," Sharpay raises her voice. "We are not having this conversation. Period."

"It doesn't have to be like this, Sharpay."

Troy reaches out to touch Sharpay, his thick hands coming to rest on either side of her hips. Sharpay watches him, but does not protest his intrusion; she simply worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

Troy feels bold, and he smiles, trying to placate Sharpay. Tentatively, slowly, his thumbs graze the smooth silk of her blouse as he strokes her abdomen.

"Okay, Sharpay,"He says without missing a beat. "If this is what you want, then okay."

Troy cups the small mound of her belly in the palm of his hand and they stand in awkward silence for a moment, the other patrons watching them with eager eyes.

"It has to happen. Everything has been organized," Sharpay whispers, not longer able to look him in the eyes.

"I suppose this is goodbye then."

"I suppose it is," Sharpay offers.

"Take care of our baby, you know, at least until it's born. I, um," Troy asks nervously, "I just want to make sure that … you know what, it doesn't matter anymore."

And then Sharpay falters, her heart too, is breaking.

"I have a sonogram next week, if you want to come," She rushes out in a bid to try and keep the peace.

"I can't," Troy bites his lip. He can taste the blood in his mouth and he knows that no matter how hollow the pain, he has to say his piece "I have to walk away right now. I can't get close to the fetus, not when it's going to be taken away. I will talk to my dad, I'll see if we can get a lawyer. I'll give up my rights, whatever makes you happy, Pay."

Hot, fat tears course down her cheeks, but Sharpay is no longer ashamed of her emotions. She does not swipe at them with the back of her hand. She simply nods and closes her eyes as Troy's lips descend upon hers.

He presses a kiss to the tips of his fingers and places them against the fabric of her top where it sits across the flesh of her belly.

"Goodbye," He whispers. "I will always love you."

Sharpay wants to believe that he means her, that he loves her, no matter what. But this is a private moment between a father and his unborn child.

There is no way that Troy can forgive her now.

A soft voice distracts Sharpay as she stands in the coffee shop, watching the place where her lover just stood, where he walked away from her, out of her life.

"I'm sorry Honey, that can't have been easy," The waitress addresses Sharpay and offers her a glass. "How about that water now? Hmm?"

"Okay," Sharpay reluctantly accepts, fitting herself back into the chair that she had previously vacated.

She does not know that out on the street, as the taste of her tears on his lips gets the better of him; Troy sheds his own tear as he follows a broken path to the middle of nowhere.


	10. Chapter 10

**I don't own them. **

**Enjoy. Read and review.**

* * *

Troy is broken and lost and his clumsy, heavy steps echo as his feet pound along the length of pavement that runs parallel to the front of the diner and out into the busy street. What he lacks in stature, he makes up for in speed, pure strength and determination.

He balls his fist and takes a swipe at a lonesome bus shelter as he steps off the curb and into the stream of oncoming traffic. He barely has the chance to put one foot in front of the next when the sound of tires screeching meets with the stench of undeniable rubber and he manages to blink before the world of darkness consumes him and he's knocked to the bitumen, his body absorbing the brunt of the impact.

He is motionless, his body twisted at odd angles, his clarity replaced by a split second confusion. He trembles; his lungs draw deep, ragged breath as he tries to sustain his intake of air, but he's expelling air and the pain burns like a white, hot coal lodged within the cavity of his chest.

Troy closes his eyes. He's losing blood, he's losing consciousness, and his body is shutting down. He is dying.

He tries to force his lips to form the vowels and consonants that represent her name, but it's a useless feat.

The peculiar sensation of haemorrhaging leaves him empty inside, a slow seepage.

"_Hey kid, can you hear me?"_

"_Somebody call nine-one-one."_

"_I swear. I didn't even see him. He just came out of nowhere."_

A chorus of voices surround him, and he tries to listen, but he's not on the outside looking in. Solitude has such potential, half-forgotten faces of friends are now etched on vacant places. This is the price he must pay.

Troy allows himself to succumb to the light that surrounds him.

"_Hook him up to an IV, and pack the puncture site, there's too much air going into the wound."_

The doctors work frantically, trying to save the young man on the table before them.

"Pneumothorax, broken ribs, ruptured spleen. The internal damage is beyond repair. We have to make his last moments comfortable," The nurse explains to Jack Bolton. She doesn't want to give him false hope.

"_We're losing him. His pulse is weak; he's not getting enough oxygen."_

Lucille Bolton clings tightly to the lapels of her husbands red sports jacket as he draws her into his chest, his hand on her back, supporting her weight as they wait together, hoping and praying that their son will make it.

"_Pupils are unresponsive, there is no reaction to stimuli, and I've lost a pulse. The damage is too extensive, there's nothing we can do."_

"We had to intubate," The emergency room nurse continues to explain to Troy's parents. He's on a ventilator. It's the only thing keeping him alive I'm afraid. If you have a priest, or somebody I can call for you?"

"No," Jack holds up his free hand, "No. That's my son in there, do you hear me? That's my son, you can't just give up. You can't just let him die."

"Oh God," Lucy sobs into her husband's chest. "What about Sharpay, Jack? Somebody needs to tell Sharpay. What about the baby? Troy will never get to know his baby." Turning in his arms, Lucy pleads with the nurse standing in front of her. "Please, my son, he's going to be a father. Please," She begs, the tears blazing a trail along her cheek.

The tired nurse sighs. She has seen this far too many times before. Desperate parents willing to try just about anything to keep the hope alive. Begging her to bring back their child, no matter what the odds are.

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises. I'm sorry, Mister, Misses Bolton. You have to prepare yourself for the worst. Your son, he's not likely to make it out of this alive."

"Jack, you have to call Ryan Evans," Lucille speaks as she pulls away from her husband's embrace and looks up into his face. Her eyes plead with the man that she married, with the father of her child. She feels so helpless.

"What good will that do, Luce? He's not going to be able to help Troy"

"Jack, he has to know where Sharpay is. He must have some idea. She needs to be here. She is carrying our Grandchild."

Jack cringes. The very last conversation he had with his son had not gone well. He said things that he now regrets and his heart is heavy with the fear that he will never be able to tell his boy just how much he means to him.

"Okay," He says. "I will call the Evans'. I'll try and find Sharpay."

_And maybe then I can ease my conscience. Maybe I can make amends; maybe I can tell Troy's child what I might never get the chance to say to him again._

* * *

Jack Bolton stands with his arms crossed and his back against the far wall of his son's private ICU room. There's a cord connected to his son's chest, to his nose, his temple. There is a machine breathing for his son, moving breathable air into his damaged lungs. Valves and tubes and beeps and clicks that monitor his son's vital signs, even though there are none. He's a shell.

Troy's mother sits at the head of his bed. Her hands are covered with fine, latex gloves as she strokes the back of her son's limp hand. Her eyes don't dare leave her son's prone form.

His chest is bare, swathed with bandages that cover the gaping wound where his broken rib had penetrated his organs and his chest. His face is covered with scratches and cuts. The right hand side is covered with a second skin that keeps his abrasions moist. The force of the car caused the surface of Troy's delicate skin to scrape across the ragged, black road. They need to guard against infection.

"He looks so peaceful," She murmurs as she leans over to stroke his forehead where the doctors had to shave his head to be able to relieve the cranial pressure from fluid retention. "He looks just like my baby."

"I can't do this anymore," Jack raises his voice as he pulls himself away from the wall and heads towards the door as a means of escape.

"Your father loves you," Troy's mother whispers before settling back into her vigil over her son.

Jack enters the family room and takes a seat, throwing his head into his hands and his shoulders shake as he sobs.

"Coach … Ah, sir? M-Mister Bolton?"

"Ryan." Jack exhales the young boys name as he looks up from his hands. "Thanks for coming."

"I … Um … I'm really sorry about Troy. But Sharpay, you have to understand, there is no way she would ever wish this upon Troy. I know she has her moments, and believe me, she can be terribly highly strung but …"

"Take a breath, Son. Nobody blames your sister for this," Jack replies, though his fist is clenched and he's forcing himself to say the words.

"She is scared," Ryan says honestly. "Sharpay knows how to get what she wants, we have worked our way to the top, and a baby, at her age. Let's just say that wasn't in her plans. Sir."

"Do you know where your sister is?"

Ryan swallows thickly and worries the brim of his hat between his fingertips. The nervous twitch does not go unnoticed by Jack Bolton. He is used to seeing people buckle beneath the pressure.

"No. I don't know where Sharpay is," Ryan says to his shoes.

"Really? Cause you see, I don't believe you. I think you do know where Sharpay is."

Ryan knows the jig is up. Sharpay always was the better actress. Come to think of it, she always was the favourite.

"Okay," Ryan fiddles with his had again before he exhales, says a prayer and faces Jack Bolton. "I know where she is, but she doesn't want to be found. She's not keeping the baby and there is nobody who can change her mind. Not even Troy."

"She's having an …," Jack says suddenly, the words leaving his mouth without contemplation. "I mean; she's not having the baby?"

"No," Ryan shakes his head. "She's giving it up for adoption. It's too late for her to have the … The, you know. The um …"

"Right, right" Jack nods, understanding.

"The doctor's don't expect Troy to make it through the night," He says suddenly and Ryan gasps, looking shocked. "His mother thinks that Sharpay needs to be here. If," He can't think about it, he can't voice the fact that come morning, his son may no longer be alive. "She thinks that the baby might help."

"I don't know," Ryan tries to plead his case. "I don't think there is anything that could sway Sharpay. Not even a new Gucci purse, probably not even a new BMW convertible."

"What about me?" A third voice asks.

"Lucille?" Jack turns on his heel to see his wife standing before him, her paper thin gown and gloves held in her hands. Her eyes are red and puffy and her face looks like she might break down any second.

"Just think about it, Jack. I'm a woman, a mother, Troy's mother. I might be able to appeal to her maternal side."

Ryan sniggers and the two adults throw an identical glance in his direction.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just don't really think maternal is the appropriate word. It's not what comes to mind when I think about my sister."

"Would it really be so bad for me to try? Sharpay needs this as much as Troy."

Ryan thinks for a moment, his pointer finger pressed against his lips as he cocks his head in seemingly animated thought.

"I suppose a little Bevan's would be nice around the house. And Troy does have this way of helping Sharpay mellow out. I'm not really sure how he does it, but whenever he spends the night at our house …"

Ryan is cut off mid-sentence.

"So you'll help us?"

"Okay, I'll help you. But only because I think Troy is an okay guy." Ryan shrugs. "I know I'm a little different, a little eccentric. Maybe I'm not so different from Sharpay after all."

"Focus, Evans. This is serious. You've got to get your head in the game. Think of your niece or nephew having to grow up without a father."

"Oh. I didn't think of that," Ryan admits. He's still trying to come to terms with the fact that his sister is pregnant in the first place.

Lucy rises on her toes to kiss her husband on the forehead. Jack squeezes her hand and gives her his best lopsided smile.

"It's going to be okay. Troy will be okay, Sweetheart."

* * *

The neighbourhood looks pleasant, Lucille thinks, as they round the final corner of the uptown housing estate. The mansions are a little daunting, the size of some, intimidating to say the least, homes that some people will only ever dream about.

She's relieved to know that Sharpay is close at hand, that at least her father had enough sense to set her up with a wealth of comforts at her fingertips.

Lucy wonders if Sharpay has been taking care of herself, or if maybe, the fact that she knows that she won't keep the baby means that sharpay has let herself go over the last few months.

She has had some time to think, to discuss with Jack the implications of their son's mistake and as far as Lucille can see, Troy is a good kid with a heart of gold, but one hell of a chip on his shoulder.

Her husband can be demanding at times, hard on Troy, he expects results. In Jack Bolton's book, there is no such thing as failure, you must apply effort. Lucy is cautiously optimistic; she thinks that she might be able to get through to Sharpay. She hopes that she can help the young girl heal. She wants to be able to offer her something, what, she's not exactly sure. What does one offer the girl who has everything?

"You're very quiet Misses Bolton," Ryan offers as they approach the front of the house where Troy's future rests.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ryan. I was lost in thought."

"I'm sorry about Troy. We're not really friends or anything, but he's a good guy you know. I trust him to take care of my sister. I welcomed him into the family. Uncle Ryan, it's my job and all, you know, to sort out the good from the bad."

Lucy smiles, a small smile, but it's definitely there.

"You're going to be a great Uncle, Ryan. I have no doubt about that."

"And Troy is going to be a good dad," Ryan counters, trying to make her feel better. He doesn't miss the tear that escapes from her face or the way that Lucille excuses herself to run the cuff of her sleeve across her eyes in a bid to erase the proof of her grief.

"Come on," Ryan is the first to move from the car. He lets himself out and then holds the other door open for Troy's mother.

"Thank you," She sniffs, trying to compose herself before she has to face Sharpay. "You are such a gentleman."

Lucy smooths down her blouse and turns to Ryan for his opinion.

"How do I look?"

Ryan glances quickly before he gives his assessment.

"Well, to be honest, your hair could stand a little trim, but the rest of you looks fantastic."

"Thank you, Ryan."

She takes a breath and faces the door. She places her finger on the doorbell and can't seem to shake the butterflies that are dancing around in the pit of her belly.

The intercom crackles into life and there's a tiny voice on the other end, so placid that Ryan is not so sure that they have the right house after all.

"Sharpay?" Lucille asks of the girl.

"Yes, this is she. How may I help you?"

"Hello Sharpay Evans. My name is Lucille Bolton, and we need to talk, sweetheart. You see, there has been a bit of an accident."


End file.
